


Hold You Close

by emmygranger95



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:18:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmygranger95/pseuds/emmygranger95
Summary: “can you do an imagine where jinder finally gets time off and is super cuddly and doesnt want to let you go and lots of other fluffy stuff please” - a friend off tumblr





	Hold You Close

_So honey now_

_Take me into your loving arms_

_Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars_

_Place your hand on my beating heart…_

Never in a million years could Jinder have imagined the effort, the physical ability, the mental strain, and the psychological torment that it took to be World Champion. When Vince and the creative team sat down with him in the days leading up to Wrestlemania and afterwards, he couldn’t believe his luck. They were actually considering him as a contender for the World title. At Wrestlemania he found himself at the very end of the Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royal, ready to lose to Mojo Rawley and his boy, the Gronk. But it was a loss well suffered, in the end.

Days later, after a particularly unlucky match with Finn Balor in which he injured Finn, Jinder got swapped to Smackdown Live, the land of opportunity. And a land of opportunity it was, as in the weeks ahead he was named the number one contender for the World Championship, and he would face the Viper, Randy Orton.

As his career push gained momentum, he spent more and more time in the gym, in the ring, and less time taking trips back home.

Aisha was, with good reason, excruciatingly upset. It was heartbreaking, working hard day after day, to come home to a beautiful house, with no one to enjoy it with. To come home to an empty bed, without her beautiful husband to keep her warm throughout the cold, Canadian nights.

But she dealt with the pain of missing him. She knew that this was his big break, and she kept herself busy with her own blossoming career as a fashion designer. And of course, her large Indian family celebrated a wedding what felt like every other week, so at the very least she had her cousins and siblings (and the occasional spiked drink) to keep her company.

It was on such an occasion as this that Aisha found herself being driven home in a taxi, stumbling up the steps to the front door, flats in hand as she struggled to fit the damned key into a hole that seemed to have sealed itself solid. She shook her head, muttered a curse, and regretted not listening to her brother, who had told her to spend the night at his and his wife’s place. Everyone was worried about her, and she could feel it enveloping her in a cloud of claustrophobia the moment they pushed about Jinder a little too much for comfort.

“You’ve lost weight, Aisha. Being without your husband is not good for you.” The most annoying of her aunts wouldn’t stop mentioning him, all night. “And that job, too. When did you come home last night? It’s too much stress,” she chided. The endless, mindless chatter just about ruined the evening for her. It was then that she’d bid her brother good night, apologized to his gorgeous new wife, and kissed her mother and father good night.

“Get in the fucking hole, you idiot,” Aisha whined, the losing battle with the key and the door drawing to a close as she heard the subtle sound of a car door shutting behind her, but she paid it no mind, thinking it was probably the neighbors from across the street coming home from their own weekend activities.

“When Jinder gets back, I’m going to tell him we need one of those hand print DNA pads, like in the movies,” she hissed to herself, pushing back a long lock of dark black hair from her face, disgruntled with the depressing realization that she might just have to sleep outside, because no way was she going to go back to her brother’s, only to be chastised and ridiculed by her aunt again with her newest failure.

“I’ll get on it tomorrow,” his rough voice moved through the air and echoed through her ears, the alcohol in her system causing her to stand there a few seconds without turning around, before her lips widened into a smile and she turned to face her beloved husband.

“Jinder!” She cried, arms, hands, and even her legs wrapping around him tightly as she jumped into his arms, not wanting to let him go. It seemed he was of the same idea, because his grip tightened around her.

“Hello, baby,” he said. “How is my favorite girl?”

“Your only girl,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek in greeting, and then on the mouth in love.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “Now what do you say we take this inside, huh?” She nodded vigorously in agreement, her inebriated self slowing sobering with the feeling of elation his return invoked inside her.

If only she knew how happy he was to see her, as well.

“Are you hungry, babe? Do you want me to make something? Or I could heat up some leftovers from what I made last night, it’s up to you. Or maybe we could just order in, what do you-?” She was stopped dead in her tracks by the feeling of his hands around her waist.

How she’d longed for this. For weeks, she’d missed the touch of his skin against hers and now it was back and it wouldn’t stop. If he faced her, his fingers would delicately graze the side of her face, pulling back a strand of hair to behind her ear, lightly squeezing her earlobe, tracing a line down to the crook of her neck. If she turned away from him, his hands would be on her waist in seconds. If her hand reached out for something, he’d grab it, pull her in for a kiss, and begin to laugh at the color that tinged her cheeks.

“There is nothing I want more, my love, than to take you to bed, wrap my arms around you, and have you fall asleep to the strong beat of the heart that I gave you many years ago.”

“Okay, wait, hold on,” she pushed him away slowly with her hand on his chest. “This isn’t what we agreed on when we got married.”

He looked at her, confused, reaching again for some small part of her, any of her, that he could hold on to. Aisha continued. “We agreed that we’d be coldhearted and distant, and never show affection. Like, never. Ever. Except maybe at funerals.”

Following her lead, he tensed up, squared his shoulders, placed his hands on her jaw. “But, Aisha,” he said, and how his voice could sound like gravel she could never understand, “we are at a funeral.”

It was her turn to look bewildered.

His thumbs caressed her cheeks as he gave her a coy smile.

“We’re celebrating the death of your sense of humor.”

Aisha giggled involuntarily, because if anyone had a dumb sense of humor, it was him. She nuzzled his nose, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle back.

And so, he picked her up, bridal style, and carried his still slightly inebriated wife upstairs, where they both fell fast asleep, warm and content, in each other’s arms, the weight of their personal troubles slowly melting away as they dreamed of each other.


End file.
